On Air
by SingularToast
Summary: All's fair in love and commercial radio. Six months ago a random caller begged for advice on what to do about a troublesome ex, and inadvertently wowed Ohio with an on-air flirtation between herself and the radio host. OhioFM!verse
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** On Air  
><strong>PairingCharacters:** Puck, Rachel, Kurt, Santana, Mercedes, Sam  
><strong>RatingWarnings:** T for language  
><strong>Summary:<strong> All's fair in love and commercial radio. Six months ago a random caller begged for advice on what to do about a troublesome ex, and inadvertently wowed Ohio with an on-air flirtation between herself and the radio host. Cue their surprise reunion in three, two, one … (Written for a prompt at the **PuckRachel **drabble meme.) OhioFM!verse.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Nope.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Glee_ does not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So a lot of this is just conjecture and assumptions about how Radio Stations and the politics behind them actually work. I'm also hoping your radio shows aren't too far different from the ones in Australia, because that's what I'm basing the content on :) This little baby has been terrorising my muses since last year, and I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally have it all out and written. This will be a five part story and it's mostly written already so updates will be quick ;)

* * *

><p>"<em>Goooood morning Ohio! Sorry guys, but I've always wanted to do that. Quick, lock the doors, they're gonna call the copyright police on us. Anyway, it's seven forty-five and same as it was twenty minutes ago, and every other morning before this one, this is Puck with you on your drive to work. All I can say is; lucky you guys, at least you haven't actually <em>started_ work yet."_

Shaking her head, amused as per usual with the morning breakfast radio host's antics, Rachel pulled into the theatre car park and cruised into her favourite spot beside the old shipping container at the opposite end from the entrance. Most thought she was crazy for doing it, until they realised that after ten o'clock that spot was in shade for the rest of the day. It also gave her a few extra moments of exercise as she walked from one end of the car park to the other each day.

Pulling the stick into neutral and tugging up the hand break just as Puck began to announce his next segment, Rachel's hand then hovered over her keys, reluctant to turn off the car – and therefore the radio – right away.

Notwithstanding her history with this particular part of his show, she loved listening to it, but why was it always aired just when she needed to leave?

_"So I still cuss out my boss every day for even making me do this, but here comes the first caller so I can't really complain just now, can I? Hey Dave, this is Puck, man. I hear your girlfriend wants to move in or something?"_

_"Yeah, hey Puck. Yeah, uh, so we've only been dating for a year, and she's all 'Let's move in, it'll be great fun!' and I'm thinking, 'Well, no it won't, because I don't want your DVDs mixed in with mine', and then I think about what a stupid reason that is, but I can't seem to shake it, you know?"_

_"Yeah, I do man, and I can't blame ya. Who really wants to see 27 Dresses sitting next to 300, am I right? But look, if you're thinking up stupid-ass reasons not to have her around then you probably don't want her there. Just tell her straight, and see how it goes. Chicks always harp on about wanting more honesty in a relationship, right?"_

_"Yeah ... yeah, I guess so."_

_"Great, so, thanks for that Dave. Next caller. Hey, Susan. You having a great morning?"_

Smiling fondly at her stereo, Rachel eventually snapped out of her reverie and glanced up at the little green numbers on her dashboard. She had fifteen minutes before she had to start, she should probably head inside. Hesitating one last time, finding herself unnaturally eager to find out what Puck thought Susan should do about her desperate ex, she reluctantly turned the key and picked up her bag to get out of the car.

As always she had impeccable timing, because as she stepped off the dark bitumen onto the paved footpath leading to the grand double doors, she saw Kurt crossing the car park and heading her way.

"Morning luscious!" He called, and Rachel grinned.

"Morning!" Spotting the two styrofoam cups in his hand she groaned and asked, "Is one of those for me?"

Quickening his steps so he could catch up to her, Kurt reached the entrance just as she did and held out one of the cups for her. "Of course. No milk, two sugars, and I hope they're the only two you're having today because I'd hate to see you bloat like a whale in the costumes we're supposed to be fitted for."

"Oh please," she replied, smacking his wrist lightly when he almost didn't release the cup. "I don't bloat, and regardless, you know that I certainly wouldn't want to ruin a fitting." Lifting the plastic top she breathed in the warm camomile scent of her tea, and sighed happily. "You're a gem," she told her friend.

Smiling impishly at her, Kurt interlocked their arms and directed them toward the wide double doors to the theatre. "I know. So, how's Mr Puckerman this morning?"

Letting out a mock-indignant gasp, Rachel slapped his arm again and tried in vain to stop her cheeks from turning red. "I don't know what you're talking about." Grinning shyly, she added, "But he quoted Robin Williams as I pulled into the car park."

Chuckling while trying to keep his drink steady as he used that hand to push open the doors for them, Kurt squeezed her entwined arm with his and said, "Honey, you got it bad."

xXx

xXx

"Oh my _god_, you got it bad."

Rolling his eyes, Noah 'Puck' Puckerman didn't even bother turning around as he perused the outline for his 'Best of' show that was supposed to be aired the week before Valentine's. He liked the snippets of his shows that they had chosen so far to play back, but there were a couple that were of greater importance to him and Management hadn't even listed them as options.

And he was playing the audio for the first one right now.

"I dunno what you're talking about, Lopez," he retorted, dropping the manila folder and instead picking up the readings he'd been given for his listeners over the last month. Fuck yeah, he'd blown the evening show out of the water _yet again _in total numbers. He was seriously the shit.

"I _mean _these recordings should be warped and skipping from the amount of times you've listened to them."

Of course, that just happened to be the moment where the final track in the series ended and the repeat kicked in again, his voice filling the room once more

_"Uh ... so, that ended well. Let's give it another whirl, see if I do any better than that last caller. Hello, Rachel is it? What can I do for you this morning?"_

_"You can start by explaining why in the world any male, let alone one who is supposedly giving it's listeners relationship advice every morning, would think that flippantly telling a woman 'It probably_

was_ your fault' is in any way productive?"_

He could still remember the way he had sat there for a full three seconds, stunned into silence. One, that wasn't what he'd been told she'd called about. And two, just ... what the hell?

_"If you heard that, then you heard exactly what had happened to bring me to that conclusion, and I think the fact that she hung up on me proves that I'm just a little bit right, otherwise she wouldn't have been so upset about it. Don't forget, I've always said this was _mediocre_ relationship advice. Now, forgetting the last caller, what did _you _have to ask me about?"_

_"Your attempt at concluding that no blame rests at your door_ is _mediocre at best, but I'll allow the change of subject. My ex called last night, completely out of the blue, and wanted to know if I had time to catch up. Considering he broke up with me back in high school because my voice was 'too grating' – his words, obviously – and hasn't spoken to me since, I find this rather bothersome."_

_"Right, so do you want to meet up with him or not?"_

_"Yes, I do, but only to catch up and see how he's been doing. But at the same time, I'm worried that he'll think I'm going to try and rekindle something between us. Or worse; if that's what he wants. Then I think about how much he hurt me and how little I've thought about him over the years, and I wonder if I really want to see him at all."_

_"Okay then. If that's the case then my answer is simple. Don't go. Tell him you'll be busy washing your hair that night and be done with it."_

Abruptly the audio cut out and Puck's head whipped around to see Santana Lopez standing there, her hand over the buttons, tapping her foot impatiently with an unamused smirk on her face.

"And _I_ mean, I don't know what you're talking about, Lopez. Don't you have the afternoon show to prepare for or something?"

"Oh please," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and stepping forward to stand closer to him. "Like I need to prepare for that shit. Even if I rolled out of bed at two in the afternoon and barely made it here in time for my intro I'd _still_ get better ratings than you."

Rolling his eyes at her, Puck picked up his folders and tucked them under one arm, then slouched against the desk. "Right, because if you didn't there'd be something seriously wrong with you. I mean, come on, a breakfast show beating the drive-home slot for listeners? Mercedes would fire you before it got that bad." Then again, Santana and their boss were pretty damn close. The Latina standing in front of him could probably worm her way out of anything with that woman. Damn her.

"Whatever," she told him flippantly. "If you include that clip then you're probably going to want to include all of them, so you better play your angle right. Don't forget how much the public seemed to enjoy the little flirtation between you and that Rachel chick. Remind Mercedes of that when you pitch the idea to her."

Sneering at her, Puck pointed out, "I don't need to do _shit_, Lopez. And stop telling me how to do my job. Promoted from the red-eye shift, remember? I got this position for a reason."

But she wasn't listening. Fluttering her fingers at him over her shoulder, she sauntered out of the room and down one row of the cubicles that made up their administration.

Feeling like an idiot for doing it, especially after being caught, Puck made sure she had walked out of sight before pressing play on the last few moments of that recording.

_"Is it really that simple though, Puck? Would he actually believe such a pathetic line and leave it there?"_

_"Who knows, but you won't find out unless you try. In fact, let's do an experiment, Rachel. You call him tonight and do your thing, and call me back tomorrow and let me know how it goes. If I'm right, I'm right, but if I'm wrong I'm sure the studio could rustle up something for your inconvenience."_

_"I think I'll hold you to that."_

He still remembered enjoying the challenging lilt to her voice as she'd said that.

_"Oh, and Rachel?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Your voice sounds hot, so forget what that idiot told you way back when it didn't matter."_

xXx

xXx_  
><em>

_"So that was Kesha and 3OH3 singing 'My First Kiss', and boy do I have a tale to tell you about _my_ first kiss …"_

It was a day off, and she had taken advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep in for an extra hour. Tugging the doona closer around her body and snuggling further into the bed, Rachel smiled to herself as she wondered what kind of story Puck might tell for his first kiss. Like all his other stories, she would bet that it was some hilariously exaggerated tale of embarrassment and utter failure on his part, but since it ended with a kiss she was sure he wouldn't dislike telling it too much.

But her reverie abruptly ended when she heard her phone begin to ring in the kitchen. If she was the cursing kind of girl, she would have muttered a few very choice phrases at the interruption, but as it was she could only glare at her bedroom door.

Grumbling softly to herself about the irritations of having a gay socialite as a best friend, Rachel threw her covers aside and climbed out of bed, hurrying down the hall to the kitchen in just her pyjamas to find her cell phone vibrating its way across the laminated counter. Kurt. Of course it was Kurt. "Morning," she said, not really meaning to speak in the biting tone she had used.

"My, my. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. What's wrong sweetheart?"

"Nothing, I was … I just …" Sighing, Rachel shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. There was really no point in explaining the truth to him. "Nothing, what's going on Kurt?"

"I was simply going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me today, but if you're going to be such a grump I don't know if I can be bothered."

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Rachel resisted rolling her eyes and told him, "I'm not in a bad mood Kurt, you just … interrupted my morning routine. But lunch sounds wonderful, should I come pick you up?"

"_So_ sorry, Diva. Yes, you should. I'll see you then."

Hanging up and hastily walking back into her bedroom, she was both surprised and annoyed to hear that Puck's 'first kiss' story had only just ended.

"_But seriously now, I never usually tell people it happened like that. I just say I was cornered during kiss-chasey and had no choice! Speaking of Kisschasy, this next song is their recent hit, 'Dinosaur'. See what I did there? Perfect little segue I think. Anyway, here's Kisschasy with Dinosaur …"_

Chuckling, Rachel turned the radio down and made her bed, preparing herself for the day ahead. Her morning work-out routine had been a constant in her life ever since she was a teenager, and even on the few days off a week she had, like today, she would treat herself to an extra hour of sleep but refused to allow herself to slack on anything else. Stretches, yoga, elliptical, more stretches, and a round of sit ups and other cardio moves had her body burning and her mind energised, and she finally felt awake and ready to attack the day with her usual enthusiasm.

Later, on the drive to their favourite café down the road, she stopped in at Kurt's house to pick him up and hugged him hello before they hopped into the car and made their way to get lunch. Chatting and laughing and just enjoying the short ride, Kurt shushed her suddenly and turned the radio up as the DJ's words caught his attention.

"_… and you've all probably heard about his 'Best of' show that's supposed to air in a couple of weeks' time. I'm so proud of my boy, he's all grown up and getting famous after his first full year on the breakfast show!"_

The host choked back fake tears, and the two of them laughed, but when Rachel caught the excited gleam in her friend's eye she looked at him curiously. "What?" She knew of the show coming up. Of _course_she knew, Puck had been going on and on about it for the last week.

Shaking his head and grinning, Kurt remained annoyingly tight-lipped, and instead simply told her, "Just listen." So she smiled bemusedly at him but listened to the show as she drove them down the busy street.

"_But basically the show's main aim is to point out all the embarrassing and amusing things Puck's been through in the past year with the station. Which really, knowing Puck, could be anything from the many stories involving his mother—"_

The host cut out and her voice was replaced with the recording of one of Puck's many, _many_cringe-worthy stories regarding his mother and her walking in on him while he was in a compromising situation, before once again cutting back to the announcer.

"_… to his amusing and much-loved flirtation with one of his Relationship Advice callers."_

Rachel gasped, suddenly glad they had just pulled up to a set of lights as her wide eyes riveted on her stereo. They wouldn't. They couldn't … But as first his then her own voice began to play through the speakers, she dropped her head back against the seat rest and groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

_"So this next caller is Rachel … Rachel? You wouldn't happen to be the same Rachel as yesterday, would you?"_

_"Yes I would, and now from personal experience I can whole-heartedly agree that your advice truly is 'mediocre'."_

_"Ah. So the phone call didn't go as expected?"_

_"Not at all! I did as you said and explained to him that I was busy and couldn't make it, and tried to leave things open-ended by saying maybe some other time—"_

_"No, no, no, no. You can't do that with guys, Rach. We're simple creatures and take everything at face value. If you tell him some other time, then he's gonna think you actually want to catch up some other time. He won't take the hint. He won't even consider the fact that you're blowing him off."_

_"For starters, it's _Rachel_, not Rach. Secondly, that seems a little ridiculous to me. I realise that the art of subtlety is often lost on the male species, but from my tone of voice and my quick dismissal of organising any definite future meetings with him right then and there, I'm sure he could work out the rest on his own."_

_"I guarantee you he didn't, and won't. Call him back, babe, and tell him straight."_

_"Are you always so casual with your listeners? I already corrected you on the use of a shortened version of my name, and I don't believe I gave you permission to call me 'babe'."_

_"Babe. Chill. Take a deep breath and relax. I'm just being friendly. Now, same again, alright? Call him tonight, tell the guy what's up, and give me a call in the morning. If I don't hear from you I'm gonna assume you chickened out and met up with him after all."_

_"I can assure you, Puck, you _will_ be hearing from me tomorrow."_

_"Fantastic. And what's even better is I don't have time for any more callers. Sorry guys, call back again and I'll see what I can do for you."_

"How mortifying!" She exclaimed as she righted herself in her seat and opened her eyes, pressing her foot into the accelerator a little too heavily when the lights turned green once more. "I can't believe they would play that back again! Did you …" Glancing sideways at her friend, who was giggling to himself and grinning broadly, she narrowed her eyes and said warningly, "Kurt …"

"I heard the first mention of it yesterday. You _knew _this show was coming up, Rach. You talked non-stop about it when they first announced it! But you knew, you secretly knew that they would play at least one of your conversations with him. The two of you talked almost every day for three weeks. It was a hit! You heard the amount of people calling in and giving Puck advice to give to you, while also asking when he was going to get your number so he could get under your skirt."

"Kurt!" She said loudly, scandalised. "Noah did not want to get under my skirt!"

Kurt didn't even comment on her continued use of the radio announcer's given name instead of his widely known and used nickname, and she was grateful. It was just another piece of evidence showing how embarrassingly infatuated with him she was, and besides, she'd heard it all before. "He most certainly did! Or at least _you_wanted him to. Don't deny it, honey. He struck a nerve, and you haven't been able to forget him at all these last six months. Neither, apparently, has the radio station."

Groaning again, her cheeks flaming red, Rachel clamped her mouth shut and refused to confirm or deny anything her supposed friend was saying. Confirming any of his ridiculous claims would only spur him on.

That, and they both knew she'd be lying if she denied anything he'd just said.

xXx

xXx

"What do you mean, 'no'?" He couldn't believe it. He hadn't requested a single thing for this damn show, had run it by himself for a year – which, you know, was pretty bloody impressive for what was basically a talk show with music intervals – and they were denying him _this_?

"I _mean_," Mercedes started, collecting and shuffling a sheaf of papers on her desk without even looking at him. "That we just don't have time to play that entire series of calls on that one show! There's advertising and news reports and the actual music to think of, remember white boy? _Maybe _if you had approached me about this earlier we could have spun it as a spoof for Valentine's Day, but it's just not happening."

"That's bullshit!"

"Don't you backchat me, Wonderbread," she said threateningly, pointing a finger in his direction. "The answer is no. Now, go through the list of recordings you _have_ been approved to play, tell me what you want and send it back so we can get the details in order and get that show on the air."

But he wasn't happy. Crossing his arms he glared down at the shorter black woman, waiting for her to look up from her paperwork again and actually meet his gaze.

Eventually she did, and she sighed heavily. "Look, Puck, I know how much that whole thing meant to you, you got me? I do! And, yeah sure, it would have been a great hit and I don't doubt that your viewers would have loved to reminisce, but it just ain't happening, alright? Now, get out of my office."

Annoyed, Puck turned and wrenched the door open, not caring that it slammed against the filing cabinet sitting beside it as he did so, and walked back through the office toward his desk, muttering darkly as he went.

"Jesus, Puck, what crawled up your ass and died?"

Swearing under his breath, Puck just marched on. He didn't really want to hear _her _voice right now. "Nothing. Fuck off, Lopez."

"Woah, woah, calm down cowboy," she said, trailing behind him through the cubicles until they came to where his desk sat at the end against one wall. "Don't you talk to me like that. Now, what the fuck's going on with you? Mercedes looks like she's gonna pop a cap in your ass."

While Santana smirked at her own joke, Puck just rolled his eyes and dropped into his chair. "That'd be because I stormed out of her office and made a bit of a racket."

Perching herself on the edge of his desk, she said, "Yes, I _saw_ that, dipshit. But _why_?"

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair while he waited for his emails to load, closed his eyes so he couldn't see her reaction, and said, "She wouldn't play any of the Rachel calls."

Silence. Odd.

Unable to help his curiosity, he cracked one eye open to see something he never thought he'd see; a sympathetic look on Santana's face.

"Sorry, babe," she murmured, patting his shoulder lightly and getting up to head back towards the studios.

Well, that was just … yeah. Scrubbing at his face with one hand, Puck shook his head and got back to his emails. He had more important things to do than try and figure out that damned woman.


	2. Chapter 2

Humming happily to herself, Rachel folded the second last tea towel just as her phone started to ring. Collecting the last one to fold as she went, she walked through to the kitchen and picked up her cell just before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Turn on the radio!"

Wincing, she pulled the cell away from her ear and frowned at it, before slowly bringing it back again. "I beg your pardon?"

"For once don't argue with me," Kurt begged, and she almost insisted that she never argued with him. But no, she held her tongue against that one. They didn't really need to have another one of their 'I'm not argumentative' conversations. "Just turn the radio on _right now_!"

Sighing heavily, she nevertheless complied, folding the tea towel in half and in half again as she walked to her bedroom. Dropping the neat square on her bed as she passed it, Rachel pressed the power button of the stereo sitting on her dresser and turned up the volume. Music was playing, but she assumed it wasn't the song that had Kurt so anxious.

"So, what am I listening to?" She asked, and was immediately shushed as the last verse wound to a close and the music petered out.

"_… that was The Script with 'Nothing'. Santana with you here on your drive home, and I think now would be a good time for me to play back another phone call, you think? For those of you who weren't paying attention before or are just tuning in, I'm getting a head start on my one epic good deed for the year._"

"Kurt," Rachel started, not particularly interested in listening to whatever depraved story Santana was about to tell her listeners that afternoon. "Honestly, I have other things I could be doing right now."

"_I'm doing my boy Puck a solid, since he's not man enough to do it himself._"

Okay, that caught her attention. On the other end of the phone all she could hear was Kurt's breathing and the echo of the radio as he listened closely to what was being said. Ignoring the way her heart sped up at just the mention of his name, Rachel shut her mouth and listened to whatever Santana had to say about Puck.

"_You've probably heard of his Best Of show airing in Feb' to celebrate his grand one year on the breakfast show, and he's playing all these clips from his shows in the last twelve months. But a few of my personal favourites – and his, by the way – have been banned from the show 'cause of time restraints, and that's just _so_ not on._"

It had to be their phone calls. It just had to be. There was nothing else important enough for her friend to have phoned her in such a tizzy. "Kurt …?" She whispered questioningly, but was immediately shushed again.

"_If you're a fan of his show, you'll know the ones. Over about three weeks he chatted basically every day with this girl Rachel, helping her with an idiot ex, and hey-presto, Puck fell for his damsel in distress. Now, it's coming up to Valentine's Day, and Puck's been a surly grouch ever since he got knocked back by Management for asking to air these, so I'm trying my hand at playing Cupid. I'm hunting down this girl Rachel so she and my boy can finally meet or whatever. And I need your help to do it."_

Her heart couldn't possibly beat any faster. If she had been holding something, she would have dropped it. As it was, Rachel found her legs couldn't quite support her anymore, and so she sat back on her bed. "Kurt?" she whispered again. "Was that real?"

"You bet it's real, sweat pea!" Squealed her friend, and she could hear him madly jumping up and down on the other end of the line. Chuckling to herself, Rachel covered her face with her free hand and closed her eyes. "Apparently Santana played the first couple of phone calls yesterday, and then earlier— Oh, wait, ssshh sshh she's playing one now."

Hearing Puck's voice fill her bedroom, Rachel held her breath as she listened intently.

"_… aaaaand last of all … _Rachel_! Good to hear from you again. You didn't call me back yesterday like you promised. What happened? Did you forget about me?"_

_"Are you terribly hurt?"_

_"Not at all darlin', I'm just pulling your chain. So, how'd it go? Did you tell you ex to knock it off and leave you alone?"_

_"Not quite …"_

_"Come on sweetheart, don't leave us hanging. What'd you say? What'd _he_ say?"_

_"I met him for coffee."_

_"Oh, _babe_ …"_

Rachel and Kurt both giggled loudly at Puck's disappointed tone, but quickly quietened their giggles to soft chuckles when Rachel's recorded voice started speaking again.

_"I couldn't avoid it! He pleaded with me to meet him, and he _sounded_so nice and sweet, so I just gave in."_

_"Wait, you said 'sounded'. What happened?"_

_"I met him for coffee, and left thirty gruelling minutes later. He's still the most insufferable, self-absorbed, egotistical, tyrannical person I have ever met. He also noticed that while I've clearly improved my vocals, I still sound like I need a little work."_

_"That … idiot. I said it before and I'll say it again; you sound sexy, Rach. But did you swallow a dictionary or something?"_

"You know, Diva," Kurt said in between chuckles. "You do have an awful tendency to over-articulate yourself even when you are supposed to be flirting."

This time it was she who shushed him, but only because she wanted –needed– him to be quiet before the next few exchanges. She remembered this phone call. Oh, who was she kidding, she remembered all of the phone calls, but this one … was different. The first few times they had spoken she hadn't bothered to think of him as anything more than a stranger at the other end of a phone line, but by this point she had actually started to value his opinion, no matter how off-beat and ineffective his responses and advice usually turned out to be.

_"Quiet, you. But then this morning he texted me saying how wonderful it was to see me again, that I looked beautiful, and that he'd like to take me out for dinner."_

_"Damn, babe, this guy can't take no for an answer. What did you say?"_

_"Well … I haven't texted him back yet. I wanted to know what you thought I should do. Though _why_ I don't know, since your advice worked _so_well last time."_

_"Okay, sure. Clearly the 'I'm busy' line just won't cut it, so you're really going to have to out-and-out tell him that you don't want to. Can you do that?"_

_"I most certainly can, but my issue was the wording. Is there a way to turn him down gently while still letting him know what a cretin he is?"_

_"Uh … how about 'I don't want to date you, you_ –bleep_–ing moron, but thanks anyway'? And uh … sorry about the French."_

_"That … would be effective, but inappropriate."_

_"That's okay, just play around with it and I'm sure you'll come up with your own vastly more appropriate response."_

_"Thank you, I'll try."_

_"And Rach?"_

_"Call you back?"_

_"Hell yes. I could get used to hearing your voice in the mornings."_

"Oh my God …" Rachel whispered, dropping her head into her free hand and closing her eyes.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" Kurt squealed, apparently still in raptures over their exchanges. She constantly forgot that he had never actually heard the first few phone calls between her and Noah before, since she hadn't admitted to any of her friends that she had called the station in the first place until they started asking odd questions about the morning calls. She could only avoid people saying things like 'She sounded a lot like you, are you sure that wasn't you?' so many times before giving in. "Rachel, honey … oh my God!"

"_So there you have it, folks,_" Santana said, and Rachel tuned out on Kurt to listen to what the other woman had to say. "_That was only phone call three, and there's a few more to go yet that I haven't played. But before all that I gotta take some calls. Anyone recognise that gorgeous voice yet?_"

Sitting in shocked silence as five separate calls came in, all from people claiming to have recognised her from somewhere, Rachel couldn't believe her ears. This was ridiculous! What if she didn't want to be found? What if she happened to be in a committed relationship? Or even a not-so-committed one. What if this was all just some radio stunt and Puck didn't even really want to find her? Oh God …

"I can't believe they're actually tracking you down. You're practically a celebrity! Oh, I've got to call in—"

"No!"

"–No?"

Mind whirling, Rachel stood up and started pacing. Kurt couldn't call the line, because then they'd know who she was. It was just a stupid crush, a fleeting fancy she'd had for someone she'd never met but who had treated her kindly. Nothing more! Maybe once or twice she had fantasised about meeting Noah Puckerman, and maybe envisioned the moment when he realised that he'd felt that same spark she had when they spoke on the radio, but that's all it was. A fantasy.

"You can't call them, Kurt," she said, as yet another person started speaking to Santana about knowing a friend who had a cousin who she _swears _sounds just like this girl. "Promise me you won't call the station."

"But, Diva—"

"Promise!"

A second went by, then two and three. Finally, "Fine. I won't call the stupid station and set you up with the man you've been dying to meet for six months. I won't bring happiness to a man that probably just wants to set eyes on the girl who inadvertently stole his heart while she was fending off the advances of another suitor. Happy? "

"Oh, Kurt, do you think he even knows about this?" What if he didn't? What if this really was just some bit of excitement cooked up by the radio station?

But then again, what if he _did_?

"He _has_ to, honey. They wouldn't air that kind of thing without clearing it with him first!"

xXx

xXx

"Damn, Puck, do you have a life at all outside this place?"

Closing his eyes against the urge to tell everyone to shut up and leave him the hell alone, Puck sighed and leaned back in his chair, swinging his legs out from under the desk as he took what was probably a well-needed break from his work. "Sam, I'm here to actually do some work, for once. So yeah, normally I do, just not today. What about you? You should've finished up two hours ago."

Tossing his head to flick a few stray blonde strands out of his eyes, Sam shrugged and pocketed his hands, grinning down as he replied, "Too caught up in all the drama. I heard the last caller actually knows her from somewhere. Like, _knows _her, knows her. What do you reckon?"

Arching a brow at the other man's cryptic words, Puck just shook his head. "If you're just gonna talk gibberish, go do it someplace else. I've got stuff to do." And with that he turned back to his desk, putting his head down and running through the topics and basic outlines for his shows the following week.

But a hand gripping his shoulder broke his concentration, and he barely managed not to curse at the blonde idiot who was still standing next to him.

"What the hell is it now?" He asked, his tone clearly indicating that he wasn't interested in fucking around that afternoon.

"Dude," Sam said, his voice deathly quiet. He almost sounded like he was in awe of something. "You haven't … haven't you been listening?"

He reached up to his shoulder to push the guy's hand away, but didn't take his eyes away from his paperwork. "I heard you. Someone knows where some chick is. That's great, really. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic, and yet, _I don't care_."

But Sam just kept staring at him blankly, until he burst into laughter. Shaking his head, unable to believe Puck's reaction, he said, "Man, seriously, you gotta switch the radio on. Right now. Look, here …" Hurrying over to his own desk, which was inconveniently set up in the cubicle across from Puck's, he switched on his little portable radio and turned the volume right up.

Santana was talking. About something. Puck couldn't really care less, he just waited for the good bit – a recording apparently – to start.

But when it did, and his own voice started playing through the speakers, he sat bolt upright.

_"Right everyone, next caller this fine Monday morning is—"_

_"Don't yell at me, please don't yell at me."_

_"—Rachel. Babe, what's up? What did you do this time?"_

He remembered this phone call. Ha, who was he kidding, he remembered every single one of those calls. But Puck remembered this one in particular, and recalled exactly how his stomach had clenched as he recognised her voice, and the immediate smile that crossed his face. He … and Rachel had said …

_"I met him for dinner."_

_"What!"_

_"I called him and explained that I wasn't interested in anything serious, and that while I found his attentions flattering, I didn't really want to pursue a friendship of any sort in the near future with him. Then he told me his mother died."_

_"Holy hell … Of course she did. So, you met him for dinner."_

_"I did, and … it was actually a lovely night. He told me about his mother and how hard it's been, and that when he came back to town he wanted to look me up and reconnect. Something about wanting to start fresh now that a chapter of his life had ended."_

_"But what happened to him being insufferable and self-absorbed and a grade-A sad-sack?"_

_"I never called him a sad-sack, let alone a highly graded one."_

_"Rachel …"_

_"He wasn't so bad. It was surprising, though I think the pall over the evening might have had something to do with that. But I enjoyed the night out, and we've made plans to meet again."_

_"Right. So, did you sleep with him?"_

_"Puck!"_

Sam had been looking at him, an excited grin overtaking his features as they both sat there listening, but at his question and Rachel's scandalised tone the blonde guy burst out laughing and slapped a hand against his knee.

Puck wasn't laughing. He'd been deadly serious when he'd asked.

_"It's a valid question!"_

"No_, I did not sleep with him."_

_"Thank God for that."_

_"Why, what if I had?"_

_"Then … Well, I mean … I don't know. I'd have to question your sanity during all those phone calls last week."_

_"Oh,_ thanks_."_

"Welcome_. So, after all that … I guess this is it. Thanks for all your calls, Rach, they've definitely been ... fun."_

_"It was great talking to you Puck, and thanks for your help."_

Lowering the volume, apparently disinterested in whatever Santana had to say next, Sam just stared at him for a while with that stupid wide-mouthed grin on his face.

Then, "Jealous much?"

Pushing up from his chair without bothering to answer, Puck stormed through the cubicles to the studios, damned pleased to see that Santana was actually wrapping up her show. Good. If she hadn't then he'd have to interrupt her, and that would have gone down _so_damn well.

Reigning in his temper to at least wait until she had taken off her headphones and passed the show over to the evening crew, Puck stood with his arms crossed outside the glass door she had yet to exit through.

'Yet' because for a long time she just stood on the opposite side of that door, smirking at him with her hands on her hips.

Bitch.

Eventually she gave in, tugging the door open and sauntering past him. "Well hey there, Puckerman," she drawled, heading further down the corridor toward the staffroom. "What's up?"

"Well, for starters you can tell me what the fuck you're up to!" He seethed, his anger only mounting because he was trailing behind her like some stupid lost puppy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him in a sickeningly sweet voice, but the self-satisfied smirk on her face when she glanced back over her shoulder at him said it all.

"Bullshit!" The word exploded from him a little too loudly, and he drew the attention of a lot of higher-up people looking curiously out at them as they passed their offices. "I wanna know what the hell you're doing playing that recording on your show. That's _my_ material, who gave you the authority to use it?"

Someone noisily cleared their throat behind them, and Puck and Santana stopped in their tracks, turning to find Mercedes standing at her doorway a few feet away. "I did," she said clearly. "You two, in here. _Now_."

The pointed look she gave them both brooked no arguments, but that didn't stop Santana knocking heavily into his shoulder as she pushed past him. Glaring menacingly at her back, they both entered their boss' office and shut the door behind them.

"Puckerman," Mercedes said, rounding her desk and sitting back in her chair while the two of them positioned themselves opposite her. "Do you mind telling me what the hell that very loud and very public hissy fit was about?"

Gritting his teeth before he said something he'd regret, Puck took a steadying breath and said, "Lopez here just played a recording from one of my shows." Narrowing his eyes, he tacked on, "With _your_ approval, apparently."

Staring at him, clearly still not impressed, Mercedes asked, "_And_?"

"And I want to know why the fuck she did it!"

Rolling her eyes, Santana crossed her arms and turned to face him, saying, "You know, if you actually bothered to _listen_ instead of rounding on me with guns blazing, you might have heard what the point of that segment was all about. But _nooo_, not Noah Puckerman. He doesn't have time for that shit."

Mouth dropping open slightly in shock, Puck frowned. "But that's not the point!"

"Actually, it is."

Turning to face their boss again, brow raised and clearly looking for answers, Puck said, "So tell me then."

Sighing petulantly, Santana started to speak, using a tone that one might use to speak to clueless children. "They refused to let you play the calls on your show, so I asked Bootylicious here if I could instead. I was doing you a _favour_, Puckerman. Be a little grateful."

Seriously? Rounding on Mercedes, he placed both hands down on her desk and said, "_I_ ask you a favour and you turn me down, but _she_ just waltzes in here without notice, and you give her what she wants!"

Scoffing, Mercedes just shook her head at him. "Oh, please. We didn't have anything big planned for her show these next few weeks anyway; pranks, prizes, and just a couple of big-wigs that were easily rebooked for next month. _You_ on the other hand couldn't handle anything else out of the ordinary because of your anniversary show."

"But—"

"Listen, Puck. She pitched me something that was actually _marketable_. You just wanted to play back a couple of old phone calls."

Smirking proudly at him, Santana gloated. "I told you so," she said in an irritating sing-song voice.

"Fine," he bit out. "So what's this bullshit all about?"

Eyes narrowing again when both women started smirking, he shut his mouth against barking out a loud curse when Mercedes replied, "Listen to the show and you'll find out."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Puck stalked out of the office. He had to find Sam and wring the information he was after from the guy's grotesquely large lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Groaning when she heard the high-pitched message tone of her phone _again_, Rachel covered her ears with her hands and begged the noise to go away. She'd had enough and had told many, _many_ people as much, but did they listen? _No._

The phone calls had started the previous afternoon, once another show had aired and everyone started getting word of what was happening on the radio and who those 'adorable phone calls' were from. The torture had been similar six months ago, once her friends and a few family members found out about her on air conversations on the breakfast show, but it wasn't quite on the same scale as this.

Everyone was telling her to call the station. They all started the same, squealing and carrying on and asking what she was going to do, before finally threatening to call in and confess all if she didn't do it herself. Even Kurt had been slightly sympathetic to her cause, helping screen her calls and telling mutual friends to back off, that it wasn't their business, and to please just drop the subject before Rachel either burst into tears or committed homicide.

Not that it was really a possibility, but she was just so annoyed and fed up with the situation that she could feel her very rare but volatile violent streak rearing its head.

Checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she glanced over at the stereo on her bedside table and sighed heavily. Santana's show had already been airing for the last few hours and she didn't doubt that there'd be more callers or even another recorded phone call or two playing on hundreds of radios while she sat in her bedroom in solitude.

What bothered Rachel the most was how addicted she was to the afternoon show now. In the last few months she always made sure to have the radio playing in the morning, which she knew was a little ridiculous but she just didn't want to miss a minute of Puck's show. Never before had she bothered getting so involved with anything else playing over the radio, not until this stupid scheme Santana had hatched. Now she couldn't go a day without switching her stereo on in the afternoons to see what was said next.

There were mostly just repeats of the phone calls between herself and Puck and some investigation into any leads that other callers had given. It was never anything terribly exciting as she didn't recognise any of the people who had called in so far, but it was still both interesting and mortifying to hear these people try and identify her.

Her eyes strayed toward the radio once again and Rachel felt her resolve waver, then finally cave. Reaching over, she switched on the power and turned up the volume. She'd tried to resist, really she had, but she just had to know what was happening.

"_… I gots time for only one more caller. But don't worry kids, you're going to _love_ this next one, trust me._"

Holding her breath, Rachel stayed lying on her bed and stared at her stereo just waiting for the caller's introduction, wondering if maybe this was the time when one of her friends or family finally disregarded her wishes and called the station.

"_Pucky-Puck, baby, how you doin' this arvo?_"

Gasping, Rachel sat bolt upright, not once taking her eyes away from the small screen that displayed the station's channel. It was Puck. It was Noah.

"_Yeah Santana, I'm doin' good babe. I finally figured out what you were up to. You're a sneaky little _—bleep—_, you know that?"_

_"Puckerman, don't you use that dirty language on my show. It might fly in the mornings before all the kiddies are awake, but you're not getting away with it on here. So, what took you so long?"_

Smiling to herself and completely ignoring the messages that were already coming in to her phone, Rachel scooted a little closer to her bedside table and picked up one of her pillows, hugging it to her body, feeling like she needed the strength holding it would give her.

"_Well since no one at the damned station would tell me what the hell was going on I've had to actually listen to your show for once to figure it out."_

_"And?"_

_"And … any luck?"_

If Rachel was the squealing, fangirling type she would have been flinging herself back on her bed and kicking and giggling like an idiot. As it was, she tried to be a little more demure and composed as she buried her head against the pillow in her arms and let out a soft squeak of happiness. He wanted to know if they'd tracked her down. He _cared _to know if they'd tracked her down.

"_Not yet, spunky, but maybe you could give us a little push in the right direction? Got anything to tell the listeners? Hell, got anything to say to Rach herself?_"

Her head shot up at those words and Rachel sucked in a surprised gasp then held her breath. Would he …?

"_Sure. Hey all, and … hey Rach. Have a think about helping to shut Santana up and get her off my back about this whole thing. Call, or have one of your friends call, or … something. Yeah?_"

Closing her eyes, Rachel reached over and dialled down the volume, though she still kept an ear on the broadcast just in case he said anything else. Shifting and laying back against her other pillows, still clutching one of them close to her chest, she took a few deep, calming breaths.

Was this stupid? Was she stupid for being so excited over something so small? Was it immature and just plain silly to be pining over someone she had only ever spoken to on live radio?

Switching her phone to silent, she drifted out of her bedroom into the kitchen, smiling all the while. But as she slowly started to prepare for dinner later that evening, doubt began to creep in.

Should she really call in? What would be the point? It really was just a silly little infatuation for someone she had never even met before. If that last show was anything to go by, Noah hadn't even known about Santana's plan to find her until recently.

Pausing, a half-chopped carrot in one hand and a knife in the other, she rethought that last part. He may very well have known about it, so that could have just been a marketing ploy for the radio station. Biting her lip, Rachel continued to chop up the vegetables, the ongoing war of thoughts racing through her mind.

Should she call? No, she shouldn't. Right?

It wasn't until later that night when she was in bed, ready to go to sleep, that Rachel decided. A nervous thrill ran through her and she squeezed her eyes shut at the thought. She couldn't believe she would really go through with it and it felt like a terribly bad idea, but she would do it.

She was going to call.

xXx

xXx

"_Alright listeners, it's around that time in the afternoon again. I'll replay a couple of recordings then move straight onto some calls. After that, it's adios from me for the evening!_"

In the last week, Puck found himself gravitating back to the office every afternoon. He wasn't as naive to think that it was actually to work, because half of the crap he did while sitting slumped in his cubicle could easily have been done from home. No, every afternoon he had sat there, the portable radio on his desk playing softly in the background as he waited impatiently for Santana to get to the last segment of her show, especially after his little stint on there the day before. His thoughts hadn't really strayed far from the possibility of Rachel's call all day.

Turning up the radio a little, he listened as Santana replayed one of the older phone calls and he found himself smiling fondly. It had just been a really fun time. To this day he had never connected with any of his listeners or callers as much as he had with her. All those months ago he had found himself wondering if she would call again and thought about what was happening with that guy. Now that everything was supposedly resolved between her and her ex, he still found himself wondering after her. Had the guy called her at all since then? Would she call the station again if he did? Did she still even listen to his show anymore?

Pushing his thoughts aside after the last recording finished, Puck listened in as Santana announced she was about to play one that hadn't been aired as yet on her show.

_"Friday, Friday, Friday. How I look forward to you, because it means I don't have to do this segment for two whole days. Now, first caller is … anonymous! How exciting. Hey, Anon, what's going on?"_

_"Hello, Puck."_

_"I don't believe it. Rachel, you S-O-B. How's it hanging?"_

_"Oh. You know who it is. Well, I've never really understood that saying, but I believe the correct answer here is, 'Fine'. Or not fine, rather. I went on a second date with—um, with that guy."_

_"Seriously babe? Of course I know who it is. So ...?"_

"So_, I could have upended his small salad and room-temperature filtered water over his ego-engorged head and told him to keep his wandering hands to himself, before slapping him silly and screaming in his ear."_

_"... Babe, I would have paid to see that. Wandering hands? Was he feeling you up in the restaurant?"_

_"He would not remove his hand from my person the entire evening, and yes, his hand inexplicably crept under my skirt once."_

_"That_ –bleep_–ing ... –_bleep_–, sorry Rach, but ... Jesus. Did you let him have it?"_

He'd been fucking furious when he'd heard what that douche-bag had done to her and he felt the same rage building now just listening to her repeat it all over again.

_"I most certainly reminded him of my absolute disinterest in a romantic liaison of any kind and scooted my chair further away from him for the remainder of our dinner."_

_"You mean you actually_ stayed _after that?"_

_"He apologised and said that he hadn't realised his fingers had been placed so high on my thigh."_

Snorting, just like he had the morning this was recorded, Puck shook his head. He thought Rachel had been smarter than that.

_"Babe, that's a blatant lie."_

_"Oh."_

_"Now, do you want me to get this guy on the phone for you? I could call him and tell him once and for all to lay off my girl."_

_"… Your girl?"_

_"Uh—Well … yeah. You know, pretend to be your boyfriend or something. Play the big, tough, protector. Tell him I'll knock his block off if he touches you again, that kind of thing."_

_"That would be … sweet."_

_"Great. Tomorrow? It's on. So, next caller?"_

Once the recording had finished the usual calls started coming in and Puck listened half-heartedly. No one interesting ever called – they all just rang up to wish them luck, or say that they thought they recognised her from some theatre play, or maybe she was this chick they glimpsed at the coffee shop down the street last week. No one who actually knew her ever called and he wondered if that was Rachel's doing.

Maybe the reason Santana hadn't been able to track her down was simply because she didn't want to be found. He was just some guy on the radio after all and six months had passed since they'd last spoken. It's possible he was the only one who'd felt a connection all that time ago.

No. He was sure that wasn't it. Rachel had genuinely wanted _his_ opinion by the end of that whole saga. She'd even called back one last time a week after everything had gone down just to update him.

It wasn't one-sided. He was sure of it.

But when the second last caller was announced on air, Puck finally gave up hope for that day. It wasn't like she had to call straight away just because he asked, right? Right?

Letting out a loud resigned sigh, he stood up and started collecting his things, shutting down the computer and filing paperwork away. He'd almost switched the radio off when Santana's shocked voice caught his attention.

"_… I don't believe it. I mean … well, –_bleep_–. It might not be her. But still … it looks like our final caller is a sweet girl named … Rach."_

Rach. Freezing, his hand still outstretched, Puck just stood there and stared.

_"I just … Okay guys hang on a second. I'm going to play a short song for you all while I have a quick chat to her off air. Here's Lady Gaga's latest hit, enjoy."_

Around him people were standing up in their cubicles, turning to face him and smiling, whispering to themselves and watching for his reaction. But he didn't pay any attention to them, he couldn't. Pulling his chair out again, he sat down heavily and his gaze locked on the little portable radio in front of him.

Rachel was on hold. She was on one of their lines right now. He could probably go to the studio to speak to her himself, or to the call room to track her down, and yet he found himself rooted to the chair. He couldn't move, he couldn't believe it, and he was barely paying attention to whatever song was playing through the speakers.

It. Could. Be. Her. Six months later, it could actually be her.

The anticipation was killing him. The longer the song dragged on, the more people moved around in the cubicles behind him to stand nearby, the more his temper rose. How long did Santana need to speak to her, seriously? Did they really need to play through the _whole_song? Rationally Puck knew that the station couldn't really cut in halfway through a song just for the hell of it, but right now he didn't feel like being rational.

Hearing someone shifting close by Puck looked over his shoulder, a little startled to see quite a few of his workmates crowded around his and Sam's cubicles. The blonde guy gave him two thumbs up when he glanced his way, but otherwise no one said a word. They all just stood there, or rested on the desks nearby, smiling encouragingly at him, listening in.

_"Alright guys, let's get back into it. I can't believe it myself, but I do actually have Rachel – _the_ Rachel – on hold right now. You ready for this?"_

Ready? He was quite literally on the edge of his seat. Puck was beyond ready.

"Just air the fucking call, San," someone behind him said and several people muttered their agreement.

_"So, Rachel. You finally caved and called in, huh?"_

But only silence answered her question.

Puck's grip tightened around the arm of his chair.

_"Helloooo Rachel, you there?"_

Again, nothing. Sitting completely upright, Puck felt the disappointment he'd been feeling just minutes earlier return.

Still no answer.

Then the dial tone sounded.

_–Beep–Beep–Beep–Beep–_

Silence.

_"Well …_–bleep–_ uh, I hate to say it guys, but I think we lost her. I can play another song for you all and see if our techs can—Oh. Nope, sorry, looks like she hung up. Uh … wow, that was an anti climax."_

"Oh, Puck …" People around him murmured sympathetically, shaking their heads and slowly walking back to whatever they had been doing before. The disappointment that was running through him was stronger than before and Puck just hung his head.

He couldn't believe it. She'd been right there, then nothing.

But then the anger started to burn. That was totally Santana's fault. If she hadn't kept the girl waiting through that whole damn song, she wouldn't have chickened out.

Unlike last time when he stormed through the office in a mad rush, Puck just waited impatiently by Santana's desk until she finished up and handed over the show to the young evening duo. He had a rant prepared, having gone over and over what he wanted to say in his head, but the words slipped his mind when she walked up to him.

She actually looked upset.

"So sorry, babe," she murmured, leaning against the side of her desk next to him, staring across the office to the blank brown wall opposite. "I even asked if she minded waiting and she sounded nervous but said it was cool. I thought maybe it would build a bit of hype, get a bit of anticipation going, you know?" Gesturing uselessly into the air in front of them, she added, "But then ..."

"Yeah I know." Ratings. It was always about the ratings. Sighing, Puck ran a hand over the short hair in his head. "Did she say much? On hold?"

"Nah, just that she couldn't believe what we were doing and that she was kinda embarrassed about it all."

Puck swore.

"Not like that! The whole state is listening to us search for this one girl because of some stupid phone calls six months ago. I reckon it was the attention, not, you know, what we were doing." Turning her head, Santana shrugged. "But seriously babe, I'm sorry."

xXx

xXx

A whole week had passed. Then another weekend flew by and a new working week started, and no one got any closer to tracking down the Rachel they wanted. Some young girl tried calling in and did an impressive job of faking her voice, but they caught her out fairly quickly when they asked one simple question.

What was the name of Rachel's ex-boyfriend?

When she'd heard that phone call, Rachel had scoffed and promptly turned the radio off.

After her embarrassing moment, or non-moment, on the air the week before she just couldn't stomach listening to these people. She was embarrassed and anxious and ashamed and hopeful, and all those feelings were pooling deep within her and she felt like she was going to burst.

Upset at herself for what amounted to 'chickening out', Rachel just hadn't been able to find it in herself to call back, even if her instant reaction was to dial the number straight away and hopefully catch Santana before her show finished. But she didn't. She just stood there in her kitchen staring down at the keypad on her phone, listening as Santana said her goodbyes and signed off for the evening.

Rachel felt terrible. How could she do that? To herself, to Noah, to anyone listening to the radio? All or nothing, that what she had always believed in. Not some embarrassing half-hearted attempt.

She had tuned into Noah's show the following morning out of curiosity and couldn't help but notice that he didn't quite sound as bright as he usually did. Of course, the fact that she could even tell made her feel like some crazy stalker and she'd immediately switched the radio off. She couldn't bear to listen to his relationship advice segment if he was going to be acting like that. Because of her.

Because she, regardless of being female, didn't have the balls to seek him out.

Santana hadn't had him call the show again during the past week and Rachel's friends and family – barring Kurt, of course – had finally let up about the entire incident. They thought she was stupid and boring and couldn't believe she wouldn't try calling again, but they'd had enough apparently. That was a small blessing.

But now she was curious. What would happen if she just never called? What would the station do if no one tracked her down or pointed them in her direction?

Would Santana give up? Would Noah?


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright guys, this is it. We're pulling out the big guns here." Smiling encouragingly over at him, Santana tilted her head to speak into the microphone again and announced, "Joining me for the last hour of the show is our very own Noah Puckerman."

Quirking an eyebrow at her, still a little wary of this softer side of Santana he'd been seeing over the last few weeks, Puck leaned into his own mic and replied, "Afternoon all. Not used to being here this time of day." Ha, yeah right. Lately he'd been here until at least this time, and later. But the listeners didn't need to know that.

"So, Puck, you think today's the day?"

"I'm keeping my hopes up, yeah. It's been almost three weeks after all. If it's not today, then when'll it be?"

"That's my boy. I know I mentioned it earlier but this gorgeous specimen of a man's anniversary show will be airing seven-am on Friday morning. That's two days from now folks, so set your alarms. I may have been playing some of his best content over the last few weeks but don't be mistaken; the rest of his stuff is gold too."

"Jesus, San, why don't you ever tell me this stuff off air?" Puck asked, chuckling a little.

Smirking at him, she replied, "Because your ego's set to burst already and I'm not gonna be responsible for cleaning up the studio when your head finally explodes."

Mock scowling at her and shaking his head, Puck muttered a relatively quiet 'Whatever' and turned back to the mic. "Right. Enlarged egos aside, before we get into tracking down the lovely Rachel I'm just gonna play a song for you all. Here's the Black Eyed Peas with their hit Meet Me Halfway." Switching to the music's intro and muting his microphone, Puck swivelled in his chair to face Santana. "So, you gonna finally tell me what this blank space in my script is all about?" He asked, motioning to the prompts in front of him that just had 'See Santana' marked against the very next part of their segment.

"It's nothing _huge_," she replied, rolling her eyes and relaxing back in her chair. "I'm just finally gonna play the phone call between you, Rachel and that dickhead ex of hers. I figured this would be a last ditch effort to track her down. Maybe someone knows the guy, right?"

"Doubtful," Puck replied, frowning slightly as he leaned back. "I get the feeling her ex wasn't from around this area, that it was just her that made him wanna come back here."

Santana gave him a quizzical look and he had the impression that she thought he was just a little crazy for knowing something like that, but then she just shook her head and turned back to her work station. "Well someone might know the name anyway. This guy sounds like such a pompous ass, there's no way anyone who's met him wouldn't recognise him."

They chatted quietly, mostly bad-mouthing Rachel's ex, until the song wound to a close and Santana took over the show once more.

"Alright guys and gals, I've got a second treat in store for you today, but at a cost. I hate to say it, but we're only going to be running this search for another couple of days. Friday is the day and if the face behind that gorgeous voice isn't found by then we're going to have to call it quits." Sending an apologetic look in Puck's direction, who simply shrugged back at her, Santana continued. "But in the meantime let's move onto that treat I just mentioned. I give you the infamous phone call between Puck, Rachel, and the obnoxious ex of hers. Enjoy."

He'd known that they couldn't keep searching for her forever. In his mind he had truly known that. But still, two more days? That wasn't enough time. The station had done all they could for as long as they could though and the chances of Mercedes giving him a second chance at this were slim to none.

Puck just hoped this last recording would do the trick.

_"Hello, this is Jesse St. James speaking."_

_"Holy hell this guy just_ sounds _like a grade-A prick, Rachel!"_

_"I warned you …"_

_"Hello? Who is this? Rachel?"_

_"Hello Jesse. You're on … a conference call."_

_"What is this? What have you gotten me into? Rachel, I don't particularly like where this is going—"_

_"Listen, kid, no one asked you. Rachel's gotten you on the phone today for me to tell you to back the hell off. You got me?"_

_"Who is this? Rachel, who is talking to me?"_

_"No, stop talking to her. That's the point. She's not interested, she thinks you're – what was it, Rach? – the most insufferable, self-absorbed, egotistical, tyrannical person she has ever met, and she thinks you're a cretin. Oh, and feeling up a chick in the middle of a restaurant is _real_ classy, you idiot."_

_"Now listen here, who the hell do you think you are?"_

_"I'm Noah Puckerman and_ you_, Mr Egotistical Cretin, are live on Ohio Radio."_

_"I'm … Rachel, what …? I'm … No_—beep—beep—beep_—"_

Dead silence echoed through the studio for a moment and he looked over to see Santana desperately trying to contain her laughter. His blood was pumping now just as it had that day and he couldn't wipe the shit eating grin from his face either. Doing that sort of thing live on national radio was such a high. He'd felt pretty badass after that call.

_"… did he hang up?"_

"_F_—bleep_— yeah he hung up, babe. Now, here's a piece of advice I probably should have given you two weeks ago; ignore him. Don't answer his calls, don't reply to his text messages, and consider speaking to your phone company about getting his number blocked. Sound like a plan?"_

_"Oh, yes, most definitely. Puck—Noah? You have no idea how much that meant to me. No one's really ever gone to so much effort for me before, and … I owe you so much. Thank you."_

_"No sweat, darlin'. Just keep away from that Jesse_ —bleep_—er and you'll be fine. Uh … sorry, French again."_

_"After this, you could speak French to me all day and I wouldn't bat an eyelid. Thank you, Noah. I could kiss you for that."_

There was a long pause in the recording where Puck could clearly remember he had sucked in a shaky breath and had to quell the urge to beg for her number. Yeah, he's regretted that self restraint ever since.

_"My pleasure, sweetheart, and you're more than welcome to. Now, that's all the fun we have time for today folks, so I'll catch you tomorrow same time, same place. Well, same place for me. I have _no_ idea where you lot go each day."_

"Well," Santana said dramatically as the recording finished. Shaking her head almost disbelievingly she grinned over at him and said, "That was … Puck, what was that?"

"That was a rejection of epic proportions, that's what it was," he replied, chuckling.

Still smiling brightly at him, Santana shook her head again and said, "Whatever you reckon, babe. It was definitely interesting. Now, we're gonna play another song for you all then get straight into the phone calls that are already pouring into the station. Stay tuned."

As the musical introduction for Scouting for Girl's 'This Ain't A Love Song' began to play, the two of them sat back in their chairs again, watching and waiting as messages from their call room and calls on hold began to filter through, quickly discussing who they would air and what their likely story was going to be. But even as they did so, a cold sinking feeling began to settle in Puck's stomach.

It seemed his prediction was right. People were calling in to laugh and congratulate him on a job well done, and a few others questioned Jesse's sexuality while assuring Puck that he had no competition from this guy, but no one had actually heard of this Jesse douche before.

_"Dude, you just let her go?"_ One caller had said and Santana turned to him almost instantly, raising a single brow in his direction and clearly agreeing with the guy.

Shaking his head at both of them, Puck replied, "What was I supposed to do? Start hitting on the girl on live radio? I get that I lay out basically my whole life on air but I kinda wanna keep that stuff private." Pausing, he added, "And it's not like she made any attempts to push for anything either."

Luke, the caller, snorted loudly and replied, _"She's a chick. They get all nervous and don't make a move on guys at the best of times, let alone on radio. Of course _she_ wasn't gonna do anything."_

"Who's giving relationship advice to who here?" Santana interjected jokingly and wrapped up the call from there.

But by the end of the show there was still no news on either Rachel or Jesse, and Puck was hard-pressed to disguise his disappointment as they signed off for the evening.

Wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder as they walked out of the studio, Santana said brightly, "I reckon I'm gonna get this real abusive phone call from that Jesse dude tomorrow and you can bet I'll wring her real name or address or something from the guy for his trouble. Just wait, babe."

Simply nodding along, Puck didn't bother to answer.

He wasn't expecting anyone to call anymore.

xXx

xXx

Switching off the radio before the loud and obnoxious young duo could introduce themselves for the evening show, Rachel looked over at Kurt and shrugged. She hated shrugging, it meant nothing and it was a terrible form of communication, but she had nothing to say.

"Oh, honey," Kurt murmured, scooting his chair closer to hers and sliding his arm around her, drawing her close and resting his head against hers. "You know, I don't understand why you're like this. You refuse to call the station again and you aren't letting any of your friends or family call either, and yet you're all sad and disappointed that something more didn't happen."

"I know," she said on a sigh, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She didn't know what she wanted. It was daunting knowing that the whole state was listening to these broadcasts and trying to help find her. It was romantic that Puck and Santana were going to all this trouble. It was terrifying to think that she knew barely anything about him except the persona he presented to the world. It was confusing trying to think of what the hell she was going to do. "Two days," she murmured, mostly to herself, but she felt Kurt nodding beside her.

"Two days and this is all over. Six months of pining over this man will be wasted if you don't do anything about it soon, you crazy girl."

He was right, of course he was right.

xXx

xXx

Thursday brought no news whatsoever, but Puck found he was a little too busy to be as upset as he knew he would have been. Going over scripts and finishing off segments of his pre-recorded show due to air the following morning, Puck found he didn't really have time to even scratch himself until late in the afternoon on Friday.

And by that time he was due to receive a call from the station and Santana to officially sign off on the waste of time her search for Rachel had been. With how busy his morning had been it was agreed that he wouldn't sit in on the final airing of the finding Rachel segment, but since he was in the office for the majority of the day anyway he didn't see the point in leaving while the show aired.

Instead he sat at his desk going over responses and management reviews for his anniversary show that morning, counting down the minutes until Santana called his mobile with either good or bad news. For authenticity's sake they had planned it this way, him not knowing either way if the final show was enough to lure Rachel out of hiding.

But because of that, he was too damn nervous and anxious to even pay attention to the great reviews his own show had received. Callers and various emailers had left hundreds of well-wishes and congratulations for him, and he was trying to sift through them all in order to keep his mind off what was happening that afternoon. It wasn't working, but at least it kept him busy.

About to start on an email simply signed 'Kurt', Puck froze when his desk phone began to ring. This was it. Email forgotten, he cleared his throat and ignored the other people in the office who immediately stood and crowded around his desk to hear what was said.

"Puckerman," he answered as indifferently as possible.

_"Puck, baby, it's San. How're you doing?"_

He knew who it was, San. Jesus. "Going through a ridiculous amount of emails and trying not to let my head explode from the amount of praise I've already received since this morning. It's been a hectic day, babe." Casual. Had to stay casual. He couldn't just outright demand she stop playing around and give him a goddamn answer.

_"That's great to hear, you totally deserve it. But don't expect me to say that too often though. Now … I know you've been eagerly awaiting my phone call this afternoon about this whole Rachel business."_

"I have actually," he replied, turning to glare at someone behind him who had stupidly turned on their own radio to hear everything. The feedback was breaking up his line like crazy. "What've you got for me?"

_"I hate to say it babe, you know I do, but …"_ Santana trailed off and his hope kinda died off with her.

Nada.

It shouldn't fucking hurt this much to know that Rachel just didn't want to speak to him again. She was just some chick that he'd never even met, so what was it to him if he never got a chance with her? The whole thing was just a stupid mistake right from the start.

"Don't worry about it, San. The whole thing was a waste of time anyway," he said, unable to help how dejected he sounded.

_"Puck, don't be like that, we—"_

"No, forget it," he said forcefully, almost forgetting he was being broadcast live right now. "I mean, yeah sure I kinda liked this girl, but who is she really? I know a handful of things about her that possibly aren't even true." Chuckling mirthlessly, he added, "I don't even know if her name's Rachel, do I?"

There was only silence on the other end of the line for a moment, but Puck just waited.

_"I'm sorry, babe,"_she said eventually, her voice surprisingly quiet.

Then the line went dead. Drawing the phone away numbly, Puck hung up and stared at his computer screen for a moment.

"Quick, turn on that damn radio again," someone behind him said and there was a flurry of movement.

_"Well guys, this is it. It doesn't look like our favourite damsel in distress is ever going to call, and it sounds like my boy Puck has pretty much given up. I hate losing. You've got no idea. But as a proper send off I thought I'd play the final phone call between those two, one that came a week after Puck and Rachel's hilarious call to that idiot, Jesse. It was their final farewell and it's going to be mine today too for this segment. It's been fun guys, but the party's over. So, here it is."_

He almost didn't want to listen. For just a moment he sat poised to move and walk out of there, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He loved listening to these goddamn recordings.

Sighing when his own voice filtered through the office, Puck swivelled around in his chair and watched as his workmates crowded around Sam's desk, listening intently to the very last time he had ever spoken to Rachel.

_"And I've saved the absolute best for last. Good to hear from you, Rach. Tell me you've got some great news for me."_

_"That Jesse hasn't called or spoken to me once since your wonderful phone call? You have no idea how pleased I am to say that and how grateful I am for your interference."_

_"Babe, I told you already, it was my pleasure. So nothing? No phone calls, messages, death threats, nothing?"_

_"Not even a whisper. He hasn't contacted me at all. He hasn't contacted the station has he? Oh, Noah, I'd be so embarrassed and ashamed if he called and abused you or had you placed in any kind of precarious situation for your actions. I would march down the five blocks to the station right now and confront your manager if I had to. Don't think I wouldn't!"_

_"The thought of you doing that, marching in here, guns blazing, and giving my manager what-for is hot as hell baby, but not necessary. He hasn't called here or anything either, so you're safe. But wait up, five blocks to the station? You live near here or something?"_

_"Why yes, just down the road actually."_

_"Interesting ..."_

_"Well, Noah, I hate to say it, but ... I guess this really is goodbye."_

_"Don't say it like that, babe. I'll catch you later."_

_"Oh. Okay. Well, catch you later, Noah."_

_"And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Rachel. She's a sweetheart."_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> After reading everyone's amazing reviews and thoughts, I have to say: have faith in me! Rachel is very confused over her feelings for this guy, and Noah doesn't know what to do about this woman that he's only spoken to a handful of times. Both of them need a stern talking to. **But up next; the reunion (finally!)**_.__  
><em>


	5. Chapter 5

Friday had come and gone, and Rachel's heart literally broke when she heard Noah's reaction to her lack of communication with the station. She felt like the most terrible person in the world for doing that to him, after all the effort he – or Santana – had put into locating her and instantly dialled the radio's hotline to try and get through before it was too late.

But it was no use. The lines were terribly busy and by the time she got through to someone, Santana was gone.

Pacing frantically from one side of her living room to the other, Rachel listened intently to her cell as it rang. "Come on, pick up, pick u—Has he replied to your email yet?" She asked almost as soon as Kurt picked up the call. Whether she had called once, twice or ten times over the last two days about this was beside the point, she wanted to know if Puck had said anything at all, and she really wanted to know _now_. Not for the first time, it frustrated her that Puck's show only aired Monday to Friday meaning he likely wouldn't be in the office over the weekends.

And what was she to say if he was? 'Oh yes hello, I'm looking for Noah Puckerman? … No I'm just some crazy stalker woman who fell in love with his voice six months ago'. Yes, she was sure that would blow over terrifically.

Hearing a resigned sigh on the other end of the line, Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her friend and instead just waited for him to say something. "I'm opening my inbox right now," Kurt told her in a bored tone. "Let's see … reply from Ohio FM Radio … 'Thanks Kurt, that meant a lot. Puck.'"

Pausing in her pacing for a moment, Rachel just stood there wide-eyed for a while before blurting out, "That's it?"

"That's it, beautiful, nothing more and nothing else. Just uh… seven words of wisdom."

"Oh," was all she managed to say, dropping onto her couch and exhaling loudly.

"Oh?"

"That's all he said to me too," she replied, feeling a little irritated. The station must just give the same copy-and-paste reply to everyone who sends emails in.

"You sent him an email?" Came Kurt's excited screech and Rachel couldn't help but wince at the high-pitched tone.

"I sent him a message through the radio's website and signed it under a different name. He replied back with those exact words." She knew neither she nor Kurt had really said anything of any importance, though she'd tried to be subtle and had left a couple of hints in her message to suggest she was more than who she was pretending to be. But of course it had been a waste of time; no doubt Puck barely got a chance to read through every single one of the messages he had received since Friday morning.

Wincing again, this time at herself, Rachel immediately regretted using the phrase 'waste of time'. It should be a banned phrase in her house from now on, as far as she was concerned. The pain those few words had shot through her when Noah had muttered them had been hard to deal with.

"What did you expect him to say? 'Thanks for emailing. Oh and by the way, do you happen to be Rachel, the girl I've been looking for'?"

Sighing loudly, frustrated, Rachel shook her head even though Kurt couldn't see the action. "I have no idea what I was even hoping for. I don't know what to do about this whole situation." Staring down at her hand as she picked idly at the hem of her skirt, she thought over everything that had and hadn't happened in the last few weeks. "I should have called in again earlier, I know that now. Or better yet, I shouldn't have chickened out and hung up on Santana the first time, but it's too late. Regretting it is not going to make things any better, is it?"

Making a noncommittal sound at the other end of the line, Kurt stayed silent for a moment and Rachel let him think things over. She was a little preoccupied with her own thoughts after all.

"Rachel, honey," her friend eventually drawled, sounding far too positive compared to the mood she was in right then.

"What?" She asked slowly, suspicious.

"You know what you did last time you had problems in your love life, don't you?"

Frowning, Rachel tried to remember back, but because she hadn't really been interested in anyone lately – or anyone _else_, rather – she couldn't think what on earth Kurt might be referring to.

But then it hit her.

"I—Well …"

Hearing her friend chuckling, Rachel bit back a laugh of her own. Honestly, how could she forget?

"I could try that …"

xXx

xXx

"Okay, thanks for that Ben. Now, today's last caller is ..."

Looking down at the message blinking in front of him, Puck's voice trailed off. He couldn't believe it. It was literally the next working day since his anniversary show and Santana's final attempt at tracking this woman down, and he'd spent the whole weekend wondering what he was to do now. Clearly he should just get over the girl, but there was something about her that he couldn't seem to shake.

But what were the chances? Then again, it wasn't like it was an uncommon name, it really could be anyone. Still ...

Clearing his throat, he started again. "Uh, today's last caller is ... is Rachel. Hey, Rachel, how's it hanging?"

There was a beat of silence before Rachel spoke, but when she did he closed his eyes and didn't try to hide the smile that crossed his face. _"I believe my last answer to that question was terribly confusing, so I'm just going to stick with 'okay' this time. How are you, Noah?"_

It was her. It was fucking her, and she was calling him Noah. "I'm doin' great babe, I'm doin' great. So, uh ... you need advice on something?"

He heard her take a shaky breath before starting. _"Yes. You see, there's … this guy. He's really very sweet, though to listen to him talk sometimes you wouldn't think so. He helped me out of a sticky situation some time ago, and I haven't been able to forget him since."_

Puck wondered how bruised his ribcage would be by the end of this phone call. His heart was pounding. "Sounds like an alright guy. So what's the problem?" As if he didn't know.

_"The problem is ... you see, I've never met him before. I'm pining after this guy who I've never even looked in the eye, and last week he announced live on radio to his co-worker that, even though he admitted to having a thing for me, he didn't think I was worth his time."_

Hold up. "That wasn't exactly what I—uh, he, said."

_"I'm fairly certain it's what he meant."_

Falling into silence, Puck tapped his foot nervously against the ground and debated his next few words. He was finally talking to her again. Six months later, after a three week search for her, and they were finally talking. He couldn't screw this up. "Maybe he thought he'd dreamt the whole thing."

He hoped the small gasp she emitted was a good sign.

"Maybe he just thought you'd never call, and maybe he believed that after a few weeks of trying to track you down, it was just useless. Maybe he thought that you'd heard everything that was happening and just didn't want to be found or didn't want anything to do with him. Did you ever think of that?"

Silence greeted his answer and Puck bit his lip against repeating himself, or asking if she was still there. She'd hung up on the station once already, he wouldn't put it past her to do it again.

_"I just … Noah, I wanted to know what you thought I should do. I want to meet him, but I barely know this guy and I've only seen pictures of him from appearances or glimpses at events."_

"Don't lie, you've looked m—uh, the guy up on the net haven't you?" He joked.

There was another pause where he swore he could hear a soft giggle before Rachel replied coyly, _"Maybe."_

"I can work with maybe," he told her, unable to mask the wide grin that began to spread over his face. Looking up, he spotted Mercedes' beaming smile as she stood outside the glass door of the studio, and she promptly gave him a thumbs-up when he caught her eye. Chuckling, Puck continued. "So, you want my advice. Is there anything really stopping you from meeting this guy? Anything holding you back, any stupid fears of rejection, that sort of thing?"

When Rachel replied her voice was soft, as if she wasn't even sure of what she was saying. _"Should there be?"_

"Hell no, I'm pretty sure he's made it obvious what he wants. I reckon you could walk straight up to this guy and lay a big wet one on him, and he'd just puddle at your feet, babe."

Her surprised burst of laughter was music to his ears.

"So what do you say? Because I think you should just go ahead and give this guy a shot, see how things work out. I don't doubt that he's dying to meet you too, Rach." Fuck yeah, he was. Testing his luck, he suggested hopefully, "Why not right now? I remember you saying you lived not far from … uh, where this guy is. Why not track him down?" He'd stay put if it made it easier for her. Who was he kidding? He'd trek across town if it made it easier for her.

_"Well, I'm actually late for work, but I'll see what I can do. I really do want to meet him, Noah. You've got no idea how much I want to meet him."_

"Then do something about it. I'm giving you the green light here, Rach. Go for it, go meet this guy."

_"Okay. Okay, I will. Noah, I have to go now, but … thank you."_

"See you, babe," he replied, stressing the casual goodbye. As far as he was concerned he would be seeing her, and soon. She just had to make her move. "And Rach?"

_"Yes?"_

"Don't leave it too long."

xXx

xXx

Wondering if she could be fined for loitering, Rachel nervously shifted from side to side as she waited by the elaborate garden out front of the multi-story Ohio FM Radio building. It had been two days since she had spoken to Noah on his show, and she'd heard him joke about some boring meeting he was supposed to go to later in the day, so she had decided that this would be it. Rehearsals conveniently finished very early on a Wednesday, and she had no other reason to put this off any longer.

She was long overdue to meet Noah Puckerman.

That was when she spotted him. Watching as he hurried down the sidewalk, Rachel took a deep breath and tried to still the butterflies in her stomach. Having seen pictures of him before she had known he was handsome, but seeing him close up in person for the first time was a little daunting. He really was gorgeous.

"Noah Puckerman?" she called out when he was only a few feet away from the entrance.

Watching as he spun around to see who had spoken to him, Rachel smiled brightly and stepped forward. "Hey," he called back. "How're you doin'?"

"I'm good, really good," she replied, feeling the butterflies become more and more agitated the nearer she was to him. Any moment now she expected him to recognise her voice, or to ask if she was finally there to see him, and she could barely contain her excitement.

When his eyes flicked down and over her body she flushed bright red, but continued to look at him.

"So, what can I do for ya?" He drawled, though his eyes glanced down at the watch on his wrist.

"Well, I didn't want to keep you busy. I just thought—"

But he interrupted her, "Yeah, I gotta head inside to a meeting, but if you want to make any requests or enter into any of our competitions I'm sure the girls at reception would be able to help you out." Smiling impishly, he added, "I'm just in a bit of a rush."

Blinking stupidly for a moment, Rachel wasn't sure what to say. No reaction? Nothing? Not that she expected anything _huge_, but … he'd recognised her voice well enough when they had barely spoken to each other before, so what was the difference now? Flustered, she considered just blurting out who she was and why she was there, but she didn't really want to make him late for work.

Then an idea occurred to her.

"We should catch up sometime," she said suddenly, tugging out a pad of paper and a pen from her bag.

Quickly scribbling out a message on the pad, her eyes flicked up to see him hesitate by the door, but she was pleasantly surprised when he just said, "Yeah, sure, sometime." Granted he sounded very noncommittal about the idea, but she was sure once he looked at this paper he would realise …

Signing her name with a flourish, Rachel ignored the way her hand shook as she handed the scrap piece to him. "Well," she said, placing the pen and pad away again in her bag and smiling brightly. "Have a good afternoon, Puck." Turning, she bit her lip and slowly walked away.

She had done something. Finally.

xXx

xXx

Watching, bemused, as the woman walked away, Puck just shook his head and looked down at the scrap of paper she had handed him. Honestly, he was used to forward women, but despite her actions the poor girl had looked nervous as all hell as she spoke to him.

Pretty thing though. Brunette locks curling around her face and falling down around her shoulders, sexy voice, bright eyes and really, really good-looking lips. Plus those skinny jeans and the loose fitting top just looked aces on her. Looking up again quickly he watched her hips sway as she slowly walked away, and he smirked to himself. Okay, maybe he wouldn't just toss this number in the bin as he had originally planned to do.

Moving to step inside, Puck smoothed the note to read. "'Meet me at the Café on the corner of …'" But he couldn't finish. Trailing off, he stared dumbly at the phone number scrawled at the bottom of the scrap of paper and the name and love heart underneath it.

Turning swiftly, Puck's eyes instantly locked again on the retreating figure of the brunette he'd just been speaking to.

No fucking way.

"Rach!" He yelled out, and watched with a quickly widening smile as she turned around to look at him.

She was grinning back at him.

No fucking way.

And no way was he letting her out of his sight now, management meeting be damned. Taking off down the street, he watched as Rachel slowly started walking back again to meet him.

Slowing to a stop, Puck couldn't help the incredulous tone he used when he blurted out, "You're really her?"

When she giggled and nodded, he ran a hand over the short hair on his head and just stared in disbelief.

This was Rachel. Holy hell, she was fucking gorgeous.

"Say something again," he asked, stepping a little closer.

"Like what?" She laughed.

"I don't care, just … anything. Just … say my name."

Her smile deepening, Rachel murmured, "Noah."

It was her, and she called him Noah. That was her voice. How did he not realise that?

"You've had me going up and down and all over the fuckin' place for the last few weeks, Rach," he told her seriously, though the smile that wouldn't leave his face showed that he wasn't really bothered by it, not anymore.

Her face still fell though. "I know, Noah, and you have no idea how sorry I am."

Shaking his head, he told her, "Don't think about it. Water under the bridge, all that."

Biting her lip, Rachel nodded, "Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure. Really damn sure. In fact …" Trailing off, he figured it couldn't hurt in the slightest to be as honest as possible with this chick. It was worked in his favour so far. "I want to kiss you," he told her seriously. When she only nodded in response, her gaze already dipping to his mouth, Puck gave in. Cupping her face in his hands, he stepped forward and pressed his lips to hers. "Rach," he murmured a moment later, pulling away by just an inch or two so he could speak. "I gotta warn you, right now, before anything else happens. There's one downfall to dating someone like me."

"What's that?" Rachel asked quietly, though even as she spoke her gaze didn't leave his lips.

The fact that he had already dropped the D-word, even though they had only truly met each other for the first time minutes ago, didn't surprise or concern either of them. But Puck had to make sure she understood what she was getting herself into.

"Our entire relationship so far has been aired across the state. That, and anything and everything that happens between us from now on is pretty much fair game on my show." Frowning, he added, "And Santana's show, apparently."

"Noah," she started, looking up at him. "Honestly? I was born to be a star. I may have been surprised by the attention at first, but I can most definitely handle it."

Shaking his head and grinning when Rachel giggled, he told her, "I gotta head off for this meeting thing, but when I'm done I'll call you. Alright? And you have to come back here so we can go do something. Get coffee, or dinner, or just … walk, I don't care. Deal?"

"Deal."

Stepping forward, Puck murmured, "Usually guys shake or something when they make deals, but you're not a guy so I vote we kiss on it."

"You just want to kiss me again," Rachel teased lightly and Puck didn't even try to deny it. Smiling instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers again one last time before finally stepping away.

"Alright," he murmured, grinning. "I'll catch you later, Rach."

Biting her lip, the brunette nodded and said, "Catch you later."

Walking back to the front of the station's building, Puck found himself constantly glancing back over his shoulder.

It was really her.

When he burst into Mercedes office he completely ignored the annoyed stares the seven other people in the room shot him and sat down in a seat next to Santana.

"Puckerman," Mercedes snapped, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, trying to look intimidating. Seriously? Right now he just did not give a shit. "You better have a decent excuse for being this late."

Shrugging, he turned to Santana and simply said, "I just saw Rachel."

There was silence in the room, and he heard their boss mutter a soft, 'Oh'. Then Santana asked, "Was she hot?"

"Fuck yeah."

xXx

xXx

Pulling into the theatre drive way and heading over to her customary parking spot, Rachel smiled brightly when the song finished and the voice of her boyfriend began playing through the speakers once more.

_"Morning Ohio, what's going on? Puck here with you on your drive to work, and it's just ticked over to eight, so you know what that means? Relationship Advice. But this time I gotta ask for your help. See, Valentine's is coming around quick which means it's been a year since I started dating my girl, and I'm seriously stumped on what to do. Now for those of you about to call and tell me not to do this stuff on air, stress less. She's gonna be stepping into the theatre any moment now and won't be able to listen to the rest of this segment anyway. Isn't that right, baby?"_

Scoffing at his confident tone, Rachel simply shook her head and poked her tongue out at the radio before switching off the ignition and getting out of the car. Spotting Kurt already making his way across the car park, she waved happily at him and strolled over to meet him, all the while smiling smugly to herself.

Little did Puck know, she and Kurt now had a stereo in the changing room.


End file.
